When The Darkest Day of My Life Turned To Joy
by WendyD
Summary: This is a true story, written for a non-Twilight one shot competition...and it is very much a part of me...enjoy! I also submitted this for the Fandom 4 Premies cause.


**A/N...This is a true account of a life-changing event in my life...I woke up this morning,**

**(September 9, 2009) just having to write this, so it is more for me, obviously, than anything...but I hope you enjoy it...it is a "healing" moment for me...thanks for all your support...I love all you guys in my TwiHard world so much! You have no idea!**

**When The Darkest Day In My Life Turned To Joy**

_By Wendy D ~#1 Stalker Fan~_

"Brad, honey, we gotta go…..I can't take them any longer…" I said in between panting breaths. The contractions were to the point, again, that I just could not take them. This would be the 11th time we would make this trip to Labor and Delivery in the past 6-9 weeks. The first time, I was only 26 weeks pregnant, and we were just about to have the helicopter called to fly us to Wichita to the Neo-Natal Unit at the Children's Hospital when the Magnesium Sulfate finally did its job, and the contractions slowly subsided, and then stopped. We went home, scared to death at how close we came to losing another baby. I had miscarried twice before, but never this far along. As soon as I got to mom and dad's to drop off Christopher, (these would be Brad's parent's, whom have been my true mom and dad and hence call them that), I held my precious 4-year-old like my life depended on it. He is such a beautiful little boy, such an angel, such a blessing. He had short brownish/auburn hair, dark brown eyes and a smile that could light up a room.

We headed to the hospital again….today, January 22, 1993, I am about 36/37 weeks along. This baby, whom we have been told is a girl, is not due until around Valentine's Day. We could be off a little on the due date, as I had miscarried right before I got pregnant again with this baby, and was surprised when I went in a month later for a recheck and discovered that I was pregnant again. She is such an active little thing, and she just keeps trying to come before her time. I have been on partial bed rest and trying to take it easy; the contractions usually just come and go, but again, this time….they are unbearable!

"Do you think we need to bring the bag this time?" my precious husband asked wearily. It was around 10:30 PM, and he just woke up suddenly to my shaking him and trying to wake him up. My sweet, loving husband of 5 ½ years. His blue-gray eyes were still a little glazed over as he smiled at me and kissed my cheek, willing everything to be okay and feeling my pain as if it was his own. Brad has been hearing impaired since he was around 12 months, or at least that is when his parents discovered something was not quite right with their baby boy. Because of this, he is very sensitive to facial expressions and "knows" me inside and out, like no one else. He is my calm in the storm, my light in the darkness.

When he was around 10-11 months, he was in the kitchen, banging loudly on some pots and pans while his mother, Norma, was fixing some dinner. She dropped a pan right behind him on the floor and it clanged loudly, but she noticed that Brad did not even flinch. She then started banging it behind his head and realized he was not hearing it. She immediately told his father, Marvin, and then the journey for them began. He had his first "hearing box" when he was less than 2, and speech therapy started. It was difficult ,but his parents did such a wonderful job making sure he had every opportunity at anything that would help him speak properly, and "hear" the best he could, including keeping him mainstreamed in school, which is where we met, his junior year, my senior year. Brad only used sign language with his friends that needed it; otherwise, he reads your lips. He is amazing….if he is looking at you, he doesn't miss much. He does not really "hear" voices…just a little sound; if it is low….he does not hear any high pitches at all. His "hearing" is like being underwater all the time, and he "feels" more than he "hears". He hears loud sounds, and will turn to it, but cannot distinguish what the sound was/is.

I looked at him, smiled…trying to hide the pain in my face so he would not worry and stated, "Yes, we better, just in case, these seem a bit worse than the last times."

He grabbed my bag and the baby's, then he picked up a sleeping Christopher as we headed to mom and dad's to drop him off on the way to the hospital.

We walked into Salina Regional Health Center just before midnight, well I didn't walk, I was in a wheelchair. The contractions were getting to the point I couldn't walk, and they took us straight to Labor and Delivery. The nurses there knew us, unfortunately, by name and we went to a room. There, they put me in a gown and hooked me to the monitors. She was kicking up a storm and you could hear her on the monitor. Heart beat was good, strong and regular. I was thinking to myself, "Thank God, she seems to be ok."

Brad was watching the strip of paper as it came out of the machine, which he was so familiar with at this point, and he understood what was contractions…and he said, "Wow, you weren't kidding, that is a big one," as he smiled and squeezed my hand, and told me to "breathe honey". Yeah, right…breathe…

The doctor came in and told me that my regular doctor had went out of town, and she would be taking care of me tonight. I was a little disappointed, I loved my doctor, but she was really nice and I had met her before at the clinic. She checked me to see if I was dilated or if these contractions were doing anything to show this was true labor. She stated that we were close enough to our due date, and she decided to break my water so that labor would progress. She also decided to help this along with an IV drip of Pitocin to make my contractions harder. She knew that we had been here many times before and were ready to be done with it.

As soon as the doctor left, I explained to Brad what she said and what was happening…we are gonna have a baby today. Our little girl was finally gonna be here! We were scared and excited at the same time. Little Jessica Lynne was gonna be here soon, and we were so excited. We both wanted a girl so bad, but really, we did not care. We just wanted her to be healthy more than anything after all that we had been through in the past 6-9 weeks.

Around 4 AM, the contractions were to the point that I needed some intervention, so we ordered the epidural. I was never so relieved as when the epidural kicked in and the pain was finally bearable. Now that I could concentrate, reality sunk in…reality of what today was….the day that usually represented a dark day in my life for the past 16 years…..the day my father died….at age 39 of lung cancer.

I was 8 years old, and my daddy, Elisha, had been sick for the past year or so after having a lung removed due to lung cancer. They thought they got it all, but they were wrong. He came home for Christmas from the hospital. He tried to smile the smile that I loved. He hugged my brother, Ricky, who was 6, and me with all the strength he had, and said to me, "love ya pooh bear". Yes, my daddy called me his pooh bear, and I loved it! I carried around the pooh bear he had given me on my last birthday, the third one I had in my 8 years as I drug them everywhere when I was younger along with my "blankie". His auburn hair was kind of messy, longer than normal, and his hazel eyes were duller than normal, but still were so loving and tender. He had lost some more weight it seemed. As I said, he had a lung removed a year before because he had lung cancer. He was a fireman in the Air Force and was a crash expert. When we lived in Bangkok, Thailand for 3 years, he was one of the guys that foamed the air strip if a plane was coming in with problems. I guess back then, they did not wear respirators to protect their lungs and the foam and stuff they breathed in damaged his lungs. The fact that he smoked a pack of cigarettes a day did not help either. I remember him coughing up blood and breathing kind of heavy, but that is all I really remember…I wish I could remember him better…I wish I could remember his voice…his laugh…he really loved my mom and us kids….I do "know" that, even if I can't truly remember anymore…..

Christmas came and went, and the New Year seemed to start off ok. As kids, we were oblivious to the true nature of daddy's illness. We went about our day as usual. I spent most of my days away from home riding my horse, my BEST friend, Sugar. I was such a tomboy, hanging out with the neighborhood boys, with Ricky, riding horses, swimming at the local creek, not a care in the world. Not knowing that my world was about to come crashing down, never to be the same again, never to be truly "happy" again…..well that is until I met Brad and his family.

Daddy seemed to be feeling a little better; it must be the medicine he was getting at the hospital. It was around January 18, 1977, and daddy had to go back to the hospital for a checkup my mom had told Ricky and I. Lynne, my mom, and daddy, walked us to the bus stop at the end of the drive for school and was then taking daddy back to the doctor. Mommy looked so tired, her jet black curly hair was combed neat, and she had her makeup looking nice, but you could tell underneath those dark brown eyes, she was tired and worried about daddy. She hugged Rick and I, as did daddy, and we got onto the bus. I wish I had known this would be the last time he would hug me and Ricky, I would have taken longer hugging him..I don't even remember if I told daddy I love him, but I am sure that I did. I think I remember him saying..."love ya pooh bear"…but I am not sure….

I remember mom coming to pick us up from the house after the bus dropped us off. She had left daddy at the hospital while he was waiting for another test to be run. I guess, right after mom left the hospital, daddy had a massive heart attack and went into a coma….he never woke up and on January 23, 1977, they took daddy off of life support, and he died. The next few days are a blur. I remember wanting to go to daddy's funeral, but mom said that we were too young. I remember my best friend, Kim, and her mom sneaking me into the church. I remember seeing his open casket at the end of the aisle and it was baby blue on the inside. As I walked down the aisle to say goodbye to my daddy, my mom came running up behind me, screaming at Kim's mom…"What in the hell is she doing here? I told you I didn't want her here", and proceeded to drag me out by my hair. Yes, by my hair in front of a church full of people. That day was the beginning of the end for my mom…this is the day that the drinking started and never stopped, but that story is for another time…..I heard that his funeral was really beautiful. He was retired Air Force, so it was a full military funeral with a 21 gun salute. I am blessed to have finally gotten his flag after years of fighting with mom for it…again, another story, another day….

I was pulled from my memories by the sweet, and worried, voice of my darling husband…"Wendy, honey, what's wrong…why are you crying….is the pain worse again?" Brad asked.

I looked up at him with tear-filled eyes, not even realizing I had been crying and said, "I can't have this baby today, not today, it's just not right!"

Brad looked at me totally shocked, and not understanding what I was trying to say. "What?" "Did I understand you right?" "What do you mean that you can't have her today?"

"Brad, today is the 16th anniversary of daddy's death, it will be wrong to share this day with our daughter, can't they stop the labor again, can't we wait until tomorrow? Please….I…..can't….." I tried to speak between the sobs…

The nurse that was checking me chuckled and said, "Dear, as much as I would like to oblige you, this baby is coming….try to think of it as a good thing, not a bad thing….this is a happy day now."

Brad smiled at me and shook his head as he wiped the tears from my eyes. It was now around 8 AM and this baby was coming. They called the doctor and said that I was ready to push. After pushing for nineteen more minutes, I heard our baby cry. The most beautiful sound in the world….then….the shock!

The doctor said, "It's a boy!" I hate to admit this but I actually said..."What? Are you sure!" I was only shocked for a moment, then I saw his beautiful face…..he had thick reddish blonde hair, brownish/hazel eyes and my daddy's nose, my nose….I could not hold back the tears any longer, they flowed faster and harder than before.

Brad looked down at me and smiled….then he said, "Umm…he's not a Jessica I guess". I had to laugh. The doctor grinned and said that sometimes they are wrong! Ya think!

They took him to clean him up and Brad went with him. While they were getting him, and I, cleaned up and ready to go to a room, I had time to think…

I remember thinking how sad and happy I was at the same time! We had really not thought of boy names. We really thought he was a she! I had always liked the name Nathaniel, and as I was thinking about names, it became obvious that he had to be named after my daddy. Brad came back in the room with this beautiful creature wrapped in a blue hospital blanket, and as I looked into his eyes, I knew.

Brad asked, "Well, what are we gonna name this little guy? We never really talked about boy names."

I looked up at him and smiled and said, "Nathaniel Elisha".

He looked at me, then bent down and gave me a sweet kiss on the lips and said, "Perfect honey, just perfect."

And that was the day, January 23, 1993, that the darkest day in my life became a day of joy, as my little angel, my daddy's grandson, whom he would be so proud of, was born and made it a happy day, a day to celebrate once again!

**A/N I chose this story to send for the Fandom Preemies because even though my son was not born so early he had problems, I dealt with a lot of preterm issues. My best friend had her baby at 27 weeks, who weighed 2 lbs and is now a happy, healthy 21-year old woman. She had a lot of support from friends, family and hospital staff. **

**After 7 pregnancies and 3 beautiful babies, my daughter was also early and I was on bed rest for the last 3 months of her pregnancy…then a total hysterectomy at age 29. I can honestly say that they are a gift and anyone who supports this, supports every woman who has ever worried, laughed or cried over their baby or anyone's baby. This is such a great cause and I am honored to be a part of it. **

**Thank you! God Bless You!**

**Wendy D ~#1 Stalker Fan~**


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